


DON JUAN MANLET KING

by Tomatograter



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck, Homestuck 2
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Background Roxycallie, Canon & Headcanon Trans Characters, Canon-Typical depictions & discussions of sensitive topics, Child Abandonment, Earth C (Homestuck), Everything Surrounding Jake English that might be mildly upsetting is going to be here, Image-heavy pseudo fanadventure bs, Is it Canon Compliant? - Bastardization of The Homestuck Epilogues, M/M, Multimedia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Abuse, Skaianet Archives, Tragicomedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-06-29 23:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomatograter/pseuds/Tomatograter
Summary: Everyone already seems to have made up their mind about who Jake English is. God, notorious TV star, multimedia personality, proud owner of one of the largest techno-innovation companies on Earth C —And the world's finest ass.But despite his great rapport with the press, there's little to be said by the man himself. He's almost reached his eternal mid-twenties with nothing but faulty luck, a terrible track record on relationships, and a good dose of vodka under his belt.Well, that is, until a bad trip brings about a manic nightmare milf from a dead universe.And as the world he marginally assisted in making threatens to shatter with his friend's lives tightly tied to the tracks, he's faced with the challenge of finally becoming the hero — or die trying. (He tends to die quite a bit.)[UPD8'S IN PROGRESS]





	1. INTRO: ROCKETMAN (VERSE 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OPENING NOTES: congratulations. this is the most self indulgent clusterfuck i have ever pieced together. i salute you in advance.
> 
> **1) this fic is formatted primarily with DESKTOP in mind, so i can't vouch for mobile quality - i'd recommend setting your viewing to Chapter By Chapter, because it's going to get image-heavy.  
> **   
>  **2) despite the affirmation of being 'mobile-friendly' i would highly recommend turning your phone/tablet to HORIZONTAL MODE to read this.  
> **   
>  **3) i have already marked some content warnings, but more specific ones should pop up on chapter notes they apply to.**
> 
> **Now i'll stop badgering you, happy reading!**

Gaze upon the hero of our story. As far as the situation goes, it wouldn’t be a stretch to describe him as currently feeling

His memory isn’t what it used to be. At this rate, not even the puzzle stack modus may be enough to keep his brain in a constant state of exercise. not when he’s wasting all that brainpower with overpriced alien wine and fat cigars. Hm. He’s fairly sure cigars weren’t all passed hand to hand last night, but he’d rather not dwell on it. His phone is buzzing somewhere, at random intervals— the telltale sign he has unread messages and should pay attention to them. He has programmed his mobile device to grow a little more forceful with each hour spent accumulating unread texts.

Precaution measures that had to be taken for particular reasons, ‘particularly’ those pertaining his habit of being avoidant and it always, without fail, coming back to bite him straight on the ass.

At the current stage, it sounds a little bit like a construction tool hammering away at fragile porcelain.

Jesus Stomping Christ, does his head hurt. Even his thoughts seem to cause physical damage. They could bear to be quieter.

Maybe just a little bit more.

Perfect.

Now for the post-disaster procedures.

Your name is JAKE ENGLISH. You are brand spankin' 23 years old! ...and aren't wearing any pants. Your head feels as heavy as planet jupiter, not that such thing even exists anymore. You have absolutely no idea in whose bathroom you passed out last night, but it's certainly not yours. You vaguely recall locking yourself up in said bathroom hours prior —baked out of your mind with a smokable hallucinogen baptised in your namesake. Some funky little ringer to do with ‘hope’, you bet, as you are this realm’s friendly neighborhood GOD of HOPE. Your regular title would be 'page', but it never quite stuck as well as the former. Not as sexy, they say.

That's quite enough of second person inferences to juggle his memory.

Jake stumbles to get up from the floor, head spinning, and attempts to access the situation. He's equal parts not sure and _entirely sure_ how he keeps getting back into these murky situations, but the larger part of his mind prefers to feign ignorance. No, he’s not lonely! He can’t be, with all the fine folks just outside. No, he’s definitely not a sad sack, given how hard he can party after a few drinks! The problem sure must have been some pesky little dream he had balls deep into paranoia.

No, not a dream.

Gosh, that sounds so silly. but he’s certain he had a terrible, forebonding nightmare. If only he could remember...

>BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

ah, he has to catch that first.

>BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR 

But where even is his phone on this hellhole?

>OPEN SUSPICIOUS SHOWER CURTAIN. 

It's morning, Jake duly notes as his eyes shrink in on themselves & spontaneously combust with the force of a thousand suns. At least that might start up his engines quicker than usual. The audience isn't surprised when he does not acknowledge the large, nonsensical title covering half of his person, that might or might not be an insult directed at him. It depends on your concept of "Manlet".

There we are. just a little stuck up on some… ordinary nondescript liquid.

>GRAB PHONE. IT'S NOT GOING TO GRAB ITSELF. 

Absolutely nothing out of normal happening right now. All going smoothly. God, who am i kidding, this is disgusting. This is going up somewhere along his 10 most dreadful moments, right next to the 10 most embarrassing ones and the top 10 anxiety flashes that give him insomnia.

>He has now acquired the phone!

That's a striking troll girl if he's ever seen one, but he definitely does not remember who in Sam Hill this is supposed to be. Funny how this works. You get just a little bit knocked out at a party like any fellow in good adventurous swing would do, and all of a sudden people are all up in your possessions. No pants, no phone, no shoes! And if he's being quite honest with himself here, he knows he didn't come in wearing this T-shirt getup.

Hey, That's not so bad for a good ol' party night inbox! Let's see these messages, in order of most concerning to least concerning.

There's a couple messages from your HOT n' COLD pal DIRK. Some others from your DARLING CHUM, ROXY. And what appears to be a few status reports that require your attention about the COMPANY YOU OWN, SKAIANET SYSTEMS INC. Sorting from 'most concerning to least concerning' leaves you with only one obvious course of action in this case. It's a no-brainer.

>HOVER FINGER SLIGHTLY ABOVE THE CONCORD NOTIFICATION CONTAINING DIRK'S CORRESPONDENCE, LIKE YOU DON'T REALLY MEAN TO OPEN IT, BUT ARE CURIOUS ENOUGH TO GET A TASTE OF WHAT'S INSIDE. ALRIGHT, MAYBE YOU WANT TO KNOW, BUT YOU DON'T WANT HIM TO KNOW YOU WANT TO KNOW.

TT: What the fuck?

This can't be any better as a full message log. It seems... he’s exchanged more than friendly virtual hugs last night. That can't be good, can it? Drinking and texting never spells anything nice in these parts. But now here's the pickle: if he clicks to open the cursed correspondence, Dirk's going to know he opened it, and then he'll have a good 2 minute window to answer something nice and decent sounding to calm the lion dens before they're set loose on his panty-clad golden ass.

But doing that before he's figured out how he's gotten here? Oh no, no way. He'll have to knock around his mindmaze for extensive context on his nightly harlequinade before he even thinks of solving this riddle. And _then_ there is also the matter of avoiding all house inhabitants and sneaking out before anyone has the displeasure of knocking in an emergency to use the loo.

JAKE: Oh screw me sideways to sunday and call me Mandy.

>JAKE: TAKE A SKINNY DIP DOWN MEMORY LANE.


	2. Scrapbooking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're on mobile: reading this fic on horizontal mode will really help the layout + pics to display better!  
> This chapter was originally meant to be posted with the first, so enjoy that softcore action

>HOURS IN THE PAST, BUT NOT NEARLY ENOUGH. 

Something is afoot.

CALLIOPE: oh, there we are. It doesn't look half as bad as i thoUght it woUld.   
ROXY: pshhhht   
JAKE: None of that nonsense. It is a majestic color!  
ROXY: dont forget the back :3 

ROXY: awwwnnnhhhh yis!!!!  
CALLIOPE: How’s it look? Positively mesmerizing i’d hope? ~3u  
ROXY: it slaps hun  
JAKE: Couldnt agree more myself. The lush polish rather suits you and makes you seem all the more like a coolcat crackerjack!  
CALLIOPE: oh shUsh yoUr gigglemUg! bUt thanks, darlings.  
CALLIOPE: it is dearly appreciated. 

CALLIOPE: AlthoUgh it seems i am left with a tricky sitUation of sorts. :U  
CALLIOPE: How long Until i am permitted to move aroUnd withoUt destroying yoUr beaUtifUl handiwork?  
ROXY: like  
ROXY: uh  
ROXY: ten minutes or so should be totes enough  
JAKE: I bet perhaps even less if you shake a leg in the most literal sense.  
ROXY: oh yeah try a dog paddle callie!!  
CALLIOPE: erm… a dog’s what?  
ROXY: check thiiiiis out

ROXY: jaaaaaaaaaaaazz hands  
JAKE: Give em the ol razzle dazzle!

It would be rather foolish to believe this display is happening anywhere but on the RoxyCallie dreamhouse barbie set. Jake comes here often- not often enough in his own and roxy's standards, but just the right amount to be considered an ongoing habit rather than a flighty occurrence.

It's funny, because all things considered- he likes them a good deal, and even more so spending time with them! He has been trying his darnest to be a good friend, after all the stressful hubbub of the session. He just can’t seem to settle on time or an actual routine of visits. But whatever, man. It’s still fun, right? and that’s what matters.

>Yeah, he remembers this conversation. Skip further.

CALLIOPE: oh, the ding!  
JAKE: The ding?  
ROXY: that means its GO TIME jakey!  
CALLIOPE: do yoU think this is the *appropriate* attire? do i have any grease stains?  
ROXY: kay listen  
ROXY: we gone over this again and again in the past 24 hours  
CALLIOPE: we have. i mUst apologize, i’m afraid my nerves are driving me insane!!  
ROXY: babe baby boo  
CALLIOPE: i shoUldn’t have came Up with this idea. it’s not even that big enoUgh of a nUmber to celebrate, i *can* still call it all off if-

ROXY: CALLIE OHPEEE geez  
ROXY: lookie here. focus. ur a star  
CALLIOPE: i’m a star u_u;  
ROXY: Ur a STAR! with feeling! and sparkly nails! and all those gizmos you use to go clickclackin in there  
ROXY: yhear me? youre gonna do great just breathe  
ROXY: i love and believe in u  
ROXY: so kick some ass in ur lil recording booth for me and we figure the rest later  
CALLIOPE: right, right!! thank yoU, darling.

there’s a sweet, romantic pause.

CALLIOPE: yoU always know jUst how to cheer me Up.  
JAKE: I believe in you too!!

The three smile awkwardly at each other, like all of them just remembered Jake is there. Roxy has a firm grip in Calliope’s hands, and it squeezes to a reassuring point before finally softening, letting their fingers slide away into freedom. She waves as Calliope puffs out their chest and takes the world's deepest breath to open the way to their study and finally go in, locking the door behind them with a soft click.

CALLIOPE: see if yoU don’t make too big of a mess withoUt me!

Roxy lets out a proud sigh. Then she turns, facing Jake being fidgety in the middle of her living room floorboards.

ROXY: welp just u and me now huh big guy  
ROXY: better get to cuttin mister

>Fail to resist the urge to completely indulge in glitter and scented markers.

JAKE: So tell me… what sort of primetime entertainment hour is about to be set in motion in the next few minutes that requires such bedazzlement?  
ROXY: oh whut havent we talked abt this before i swore u knew  
ROXY: Callies opened an ASMR channel couple moons ago and its the TITS man theyre sooooooo popular  
JAKE: I really have no idea what these letters stand for if they were supposed to jog my memory.  
ROXY: its sorta like this thing that helps ppl sleep im not gonna lecture you on the scientific specifics of it  
JAKE: Like some sort of magicks?  
ROXY: nooooo its normal everyman stuff like tapping and making whispernoisys till your brain bluescreens but like in a nice way  
ROXY: they read some of their stories and maybe crunch a big hunk of meat sometimes and that seems to really do it for those guys  
ROXY: ngl it makes me kinda  
ROXY: jealous maybe?  
ROXY: not in a bad way like im not capital E envious of their success and shit thatd be wack its more like they have a PUBLIC now and woowee  
ROXY: that sure does up the stakes on our little bromance  
JAKE: Huh. I was under the assumption your broship was past the camaderie play stage when you two moved in together! Something about sculpting wizard statues sporting eachothers handsome visage whose big bushy beards twist and loop together to form a heart at the end didnt quite spell 'platonic' to me.  
JAKE: But i can be so thick headed!  
ROXY: wow no bullets spared today rite english  
ROXY: nah well yeah you got it all pretty much right rly  
ROXY: we ARE what youd call an item  
ROXY: And not to brag or anythin but... totally bragging anyway we can get up to some rad smoochin sessions  
ROXY: and i love it lol  
JAKE: I KNEW it!  
ROXY: NOTHIN beats alien angel smooches this shits straight out of romance novellas ok  
ROXY: but i cant help being just a tiny wee bit insecure that theyll end up having more fun txting during nightly streams without me because im just one roxy vs the world yknow  
ROXY: mayb not rly ‘fun’ per say just…  
ROXY: lately they have worried less AND more abt their appearance at the same time if thats even possible  
ROXY: eugh i could just b feeling clingy wtv  
JAKE: Is the audience truly bogarting their attention this badly?  
ROXY: eh sometimes  
ROXY: not always  
ROXY: i know its a silly thing  
ROXY: god i hope bogartin means hogging is that what it means cos thats what im answering  
JAKE: It does! And i see. I cant proclaim myself to be rather useful in the subject of relationship advice…  
ROXY: oh tell me bout it  
JAKE: Ahem. but i think youre just feeling things and thats great. It means you really care! Humans are like a puzzle box with nearly unflippable little pieces sometimes. You dont know what fits where or how to properly orchestrate the motions and nothing seems to work until it does and then it all makes sense.  
JAKE: Im sure it must be the same to calliope too sometimes. even though theyre not human. same difference right? The fine line still applies.  
ROXY: hmmm i think  
ROXY: you got a lil lost in the sauce of your metaphor but ic what u mean homeo  
JAKE: Well the point is. i believe one roxy is a perfectly good amount of roxies to have a grand ol time regardless of how many other dashing individuals you meet in your lifetime!  
JAKE: Though i am perhaps a suspicious customer to be saying as much.  
ROXY: aw mannnn  
ROXY: youre sooooooooooo  
ROXY: uwu  
JAKE: Uwhat?  
ROXY: no jakey do it like this uwu  
JAKE: uwu  
ROXY: fffffffffffff <3

ROXY: so what r YOU moping about btw  
JAKE: Im moping?  
ROXY: yeah duh  
ROXY: you have this neutral face on thats like  
ROXY: ·_·  
ROXY: its so fucked  
JAKE: Well shucks.  
JAKE: Maybe i am coming down with the seasonal sadness?  
ROXY: is it rly seasonal sadness if you been at it for more than one season tho  
ROXY: like come ON  
ROXY: is this about you know whomst  
JAKE: No.  
ROXY: isnt it  
JAKE: No??  
ROXY: but its always about you know whomst  
ROXY: to the point youve specifically told me to talk abt him as ‘you know whomst’ which is a mouthful lemme tell ya instead of just dirk  
JAKE: Oh GEEZ.  
ROXY: so whats the deal  
JAKE: Theres no deal!  
ROXY: is the deal that there is no deal  
JAKE: …  
ROXY: lmao jackpot  
ROXY: *kapoosh* i shoot and you land straight in ur ass *WHAM* ur sorry flattened pancake whimpers and this action sequence owns so hard i stop rping for the rest of this convo  
ROXY: so tell me  
JAKE: As previously established i dont see why we should make a big deal of something that obviously isnt even a small one. but if there HAD to be a deal. then the *deal* would be that mr strider and i havent been quite mingling as we once did. permanently.  
ROXY: mingling  
ROXY: so ur not talking  
JAKE: In a manner of speaking yes. a message here and there might occur as one can only be so cold before it becomes outright disgraceful but we have decided to limit it only to important and/or highly casual matters.  
JAKE: Which is just DANDY if you ask me. responsible adult business!  
ROXY: important and/or highly casual matterx  
ROXY: did yall sign a divorce w that clause or r u just being a tightass  
JAKE: Unmarried gents need no divorce!  
JAKE: I dont peddle myself for a misogamist but i surely am glad we never got ourselves hitched! can you imagine how much more disastrous the whole shindig wouldve been then. Oh no siree.  
ROXY: jake ur crinkling your stickers  
JAKE: Well.  
JAKE: Erm!  
JAKE: I guess this one is going to the recycle pile.  
ROXY: by merlins STRETCHED old BRIEFS jake what do u even argue abt  
ROXY: youre both so emotionally constipated it cant be that bad  
JAKE: Hes just been a little more shut in than usual and cagey about things which might as well be my fault. Guess i scalded the poor fellow in silence once and THAT was enough to acquire a growing taste for it. Just another of these things.  
JAKE: Its like were reading the same book but never quite in the same page.  
ROXY: that just sounds lonely  
JAKE: I have a feeling this a tricky topic.  
ROXY: lets switch  
ROXY: i bet this angsting aint gonna last 3 months hbu  
ROXY: loser gets epically prankd on  
JAKE: That wasnt a SWITCH!  
ROXY: FIIIINE  
ROXY: but mark my words

ROXY: J  
JAKE: Mm?  
ROXY: so uh i been thinking this over  
ROXY: like im not 100% sure if this is how things r gonna be forreal  
ROXY: but uh  
ROXY: would it feel like im just  
ROXY: copying callie  
ROXY: if i decided that say i may or may not be attracted n open to the idea of dropping my she badge for a themst badge  
ROXY: am i just doing it to fit in w/ them?  
ROXY: absorbing n assimilating their breakthru just cause i thought i thought it sounded cool????  
JAKE: Would doing so be such a bad thing? I dont comprehend the particularities at play.  
ROXY: i dunno  
ROXY: ack its just complicated i guess  
ROXY: i dont know where i stand but i feel like i might never… Know… If i dont try?  
JAKE: Well from where i stand i dont see lots of grounds for impediment. i believe youre a diamond of the first water either way! and id be a huge ass to suggest anything but!!  
JAKE: Really the only problem here might be distinguishing when im referring to you both as they or when im pointing you out as a singular they among the crowd. But even then thats just a little bit exciting dont you think?   
JAKE: Its like your person is doing a voidy thing.  
ROXY: oh man  
ROXY: i done voided my gender  
JAKE:Whatever will you do!  
ROXY: welp guess ill just have to settle for  
ROXY: making a completely new one from scratch  
JAKE: Funny youd say so when we already have our sleeves rolled up.  
ROXY: YES

ROXY: this is it.  
ROXY: this is gender  
JAKE: *whistle* what a couple of lookers!  
JAKE: You dont happen to have their numbers noted down somewhere, do ya?  
ROXY: ITS YOU and me too damn man put these peepers to work  
JAKE: Oh pardon my mishaps!  
JAKE: I couldnt recognize myself under all that incognito glitter! i look like a completely changed man.  
ROXY: yeah thx to ME  
ROXY: were all matchsies with our fancy whiskers and dapper hats  
ROXY: its a bussness casual vibe…   
ROXY: but like kinda sexy too  
JAKE: You know the thing about staches rox? i think they rather suit your mug. you should try getting one of these on your real one.  
ROXY: youre only sayin that bc you want to watch me glue glitter on my face  
JAKE: I swear i dont know where youd get that impression.  
ROXY: im onto you english  
ROXY: stop blinkin ur stupid bambi eyes at me im not gonna do it i just took a bath  
ROXY: what r u fussing with over there  
JAKE: Calliopes famed cake slam shot. i think its about time somebody broke it down to meticulous detail for when it has to be written down as an historical moment.  
ROXY: ohhh boy  
ROXY: the terror of hardworkin pastrymakin janes everywhere  
ROXY: omg wait  
ROXY: what is john DOING  
JAKE: I really shouldnt intrude.  
JAKE: But you see there comes a time in a mans life where he must strongly consider the benefits of breasts. particularly in this ca-  
ROXY: oh no were not going down that path and ruinin callies sweet bday pictures  
ROXY: give me the marker i need to put horns on rose

ROXY: now this thing is one for the museums  
ROXY: all in a days work!  
JAKE: Well arent we quite the studs of studwork?  
ROXY: thats literally the most beautiful fuckin thing youve ever said to me  
ROXY: HELL YEAH we are  
ROXY: chefs fuckin kiss

>THAT WAS ALL QUITE SWEET. AND MAYBE RELEVANT? BUT ALSO FELT COMPLETELY DIVORCED FROM YOUR CURRENT FREAKOUT. SKIP AHEAD.


	3. PLATO’S RAVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, flip phone to horizontal or a whole lot of things will be illegible and we dont want that

>A few hours in the past, although less than you'd expect:

Ah, now _this_ seems like an opportune time. But first, pardon me as i slip into something more comfortable.

It's sundown. The atmosphere is painted pink and orange, and Jake English takes the opportunity to bid his friend farewell, waving midair and taking off into the metamorphosing sky.

Leaving Roxy and Calliope's little slice of paradise often puts his world in perspective. Comparatively to whatever it is he pretends to have put together with an entertaining juggling act, they really do seem like they have a hold of what's going on. A packed home, a myriad of hobbies, a curated contact list composed of friends & family and a library's worth of homemade books full of warm memories and the occasional saucy science-fiction. They've built their own castle, brick by golden brick, by earnestly dedicating time to putting down foundations and staying far removed from the public eye. 

Which of course, is just the kind of formula he has been avoiding in all these years. He wonders if this was a mistake, gliding through the air and setting course to his mansion at the heart of the Consort Kingdom, which shouldn't be more than an hour away at the indiscriminate bullet speed he's shooting for. He could always use transportalizers, but stepping into one often brings back bittersweet memories of entrapment and the short lived panic that a glitch may send him somewhere else. 

So flying it is. All in all, he's got time for thinking.

Adulthood is quite the fickle beast to Jake English. He's counted the figures, bought the snazzy suits, drank the numerous champagnes and flaunted his peacock feathers in every high class event that demanded his presence and grand waltz as one of the pillars of this world, but none of it seems to have taken effect. Is he high on the Man-O'-Meter yet? How many more checkboxes must be marked off for him to climb the ranks and redeem his reward? Does it all weigh on the size of a fellow's mustache? He has been trying to grow one, with varying degrees of failure. 

(He has tried to wearing a fake one, too, but even that proved itself to be a difficult task.)

One would think after all this time a gent of his status and bullshit cosmic mumbo jumbo would have it all figured out by now. And they'd be wrong. It boggles his mind how all of his victories still land flat and hollow, like they've been ran over by a truck during crossing. Few are the things Jake can affirm without bluffing, and fewer are the ones he's able to elaborate on. 

If he's being frank with himself, he hasn't ever even understood a lot about his own brain. He doesn't get people, or adventure, or men, or hope, or romance. He doesn't fully comprehend how he's allowed to exist in the way that he does. He's lucky he's managed to somewhat distinguish himself from John since the embarrassing ventures on the lilypad- where it became apparent he had been just a defective prototype for something greater, correctly rounded out and fulfilled in his own right. At least now people bother to remember his name has no Egbert in it, and never did.

Although bitterly, they never seem to remember it for any reason that truly matters.

These days, even his friends had less excuses to hang around each other. Or _maybe_ they just didn't feel like there was a reason to put as much effort as they once did. World’s not ending anymore, so why bother?

He hasn't kept close contact with Jane in years, considering how disastrous their interactions were face-to-face and how terrible both of them are at apologising. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop, she's waiting for him to forget instead of forgive.

Dirk is… complicated. Dirk is _Dirk._ There's something about this planet that hasn't sat well with the chap, and Jake suspects it may as well have been him and his crap Midas touch again. He's still technically his best bro, except that they haven't been doing much bro-related activities together, if any. 

Jade has trotted off to the other side of the globe, an unleashed sun collecting orbiting stars in her wake. Presumably tied up with a couple of handsome hitchhikers who have been introducing her to the wonders of natural tourism. (While doing some godly safari themselves, if you catch the drift.) Jake isn't sure if they're dating or what, but his grannydaughter is happy in the pictures she's sent lately, and he believes that to be good. Belief is key! 

That leaves him off with Roxy and Calliope, the starling love doves. He'd be a filthy liar to say they didn't bring an honest smile to his face every so often. And while it is not something to be said out loud, Jake is envious of the never-ending supply of love Roxy seemingly has to give. "Love" may be an even more capricious beast when it comes to his understanding of it, and they wear it emblazoned on their lapels as an everyday accessory. Indispensable, immutable, impermeable. 

Roxy loves with the intensity of a supernova, and its flares are pointed to any and all that catch the kind glint of their eyes. They could power up a whole state.

He envies the roguish skill they seem to have crafted specifically to handle this hot potato of a feeling, able to treat it simultaneously like a virosis and a benign growth. Love is… risky. It hunts and scratches and bleeds. It's an intense roller coaster with little buildup and only a ticket down, and its endless fall fills his stomach with unease. He's seen it in movies, comics, tv series, books and videogames, second-hand experienced it multiple times, as a child living vicariously through fiction: love is when the two main characters meet and their eyes sparkle, heart racing. It Is when your body lights up and you know they are 'the one' immediately and without a doubt! Love is being hit by a lightning bolt and standing under the storm for more. Begging, almost. It makes people do all sort of _insane_ and _hurtful_ things.

Love scares him. 

He's seen the way it has collected and mercilessly beat up each of his closest friends, and he dreads the day he has to face it mano-a-mano. 

What probably scares him most is the fact that he hasn't been able to feel it, not like he was told he's supposed to. To look at someone and be one hundred percent sure they're the star you're magnetized to orbit around for the rest of your days? To bind them down to your axis, selfishly limiting their reach? To pine over something so abstract and so flimsy that it may never be yours and dedicate your every waking moment with the pursuit of intangible satisfaction? It's all so… final. Confident. Conclusive. What about the imperfections? What about the doubts, the uncertainty? How can anybody be so sure all the time? 

He's only experienced passion in timed outbursts, a high that comes and fills him up with the intent that everything is possible and alright with the world until it inevitably leaves and takes with it the entirety of his being, leaving only the hollowed out and deflated corpse of a man behind. He knows this isn't loving right. 

He knows what love is, truthfully. It's a prize. (Is it?) Reserved for heroes who have fought the good fight, sitting atop a pedestal protected by booby traps and spikes. It is a treasure, and therefore it doubles as property. On the past years, specially taking on his position as a chairman he has learned wealthy people do with property as they wish. 

Previous narrators have established this, and it is only fair to further echo the sentiment: Jake English is not a particularly good hero. He also happens to be rather tired of being coveted as a prize. He knows deep down that If he had to rank on the exciting action lead scale, all the arrows would point to "Hysterical Dame" as soon as he's weighed in.

Hovering past nondescript cities that blur in and out of each other as he flies south, Jake pauses. He enjoys travelling by air, by himself, because the joy of flight is a childish pleasure that hasn't ran out of dazzle even after all these years. He legitimately hates that he allowed himself to become this morose and blue after a well-meaning visit and less than 10 minutes of silence. What's wrong with him? Roxy was perfectly happy as they waved him off and whistled as he took flight, reminding him he should give a good think about their next meetup. But then again, maybe they were only happy to dispatch him off. Is he badgering them into giving him attention? Is he being selfish again? Has he ever stopped being selfish? Oh, no. Not this.

He bats these thoughts away like he's getting rid of flies. Then, with a decided flourish, Jake produces his phone out of a Skaianet© captchalogue card, and starts to punch in orders. 

Now listen. I could go on to describe what happens in the next hours in excruciating detail, but these aren't really moments he cares to remember nor are they integral to this story, thus it would be extensively derailing the fragile narrative balance we're trying hard to establish. You know, like mumbling in third person to build up a scene and setting whenever i am not forced to utilize the command voice to help things happen? Trying to make this mess of words continue resembling any form of mature, thoughtful young adult literature is a thankless shitbucket of a task.

So instead of following Jake around as he prunces about the rowdy cacophony of groupies and socialites he calls a contact list, let's focus on a truly overshadowed character that will, in time, prove themselves to be worthy of the importance we're about to give them during the Great English Brain Shutdown. On someone who can be just as entertaining as the audience write-in as he sprays up his hair and changes into his bedazzled party pants.

And just who that might be? 

Enter.  


>Steve.

(Steve is a salamander. Steve also deeply enjoys being talked about in third-person, like any well meaning NPC worth their salt.)

Steve, as it'll soon play out, happens to be attending the same party Jake will eventually invite himself to, although he snuck in. Invitations are for losers when you're under 4 feet tall and incredibly, utterly adorable. 

Like, ridiculously adorable.

Steve also happens to take life one step at a time, rarely bothering with the rush around him- so when English makes his grand entrance, swooping in through the foyer and accumulating a crowd, he isn't inclined to follow. He hears the oohs, and aaahs, and to that he has a simple answer: blowing bubbles. Getting curb-stomped isn't high on his priority list, and he's GOT priorities.

Steve, you see, has been looking for an autograph. He has a limited copy of Jake's company opening ceremonies poster- which has been going for a lot these days, and he's confident with a signature it can totally break the auction bank. Quite the visionary entrepreneur, himself. It would really be quite the jackpot to have the man in the flesh sign it for him. 

As one would imagine, he's been attending a ridiculous number of parties in the past weeks. Jake's whims are as unpredictable as they are ridiculous, and if not in an event organized by himself, there's no way of knowing when or if he'll ever show up.

It has become something of a gambling game and an urban legend to throw parties on his name, effectively "summoning" him. The instructions to the calling sort of go like this: 

1) if you're feeling lonely, gather around your (preferably rich, FANCY, lousy) friends.  
2) Arrange a sound system and deck the fuck out of the snacks and the lights.  
3) Do your best to sound like you're having fun.  
4)If you're particularly convincing, the god of hope might hear your mirthful glee in the winds of the night sky and come to bless you with his charms. (And blah, blah, blah.) 

There is a ritual to the madness. it is earth C’s worst kept secret how much of a depressing dungbeetle their God of Hope can be. A crybaby, if you're feeling particularly soft, and a coward if you'd rather hold back no punches. Usually these kind of depictions would damper the public reception quite a bit, but they didn't count on his special charm: motherfucker knows how to completely entrance crowds. Some see it as a bad omen- that his moods will dictate luck and presumably the outcome on all sorts of nightly exploits, fucking them over endlessly. While others, bless their heart, have taken it as a challenge.

From partygoer to partygoer, talking him up feels like a 2-minute live version of The Bachelor. Everybody's waiting for a shake of hands, an introduction, or the opportunity to hear an exclusive story straight from the blabbermouth source. And that takes time. But it’s fine, Steve knows how to wait. So long he keeps an eye on him, Jake's going to be kept busy for a reeeeeally long time, and then when he's not- that's his chance.

  


Hope works in mysterious ways. But if there’s something all present parties accounted for can agree on (including dear, sweet steve) is that it is infectious. It’s hard to describe exactly how and why it happens, but the word on the street is pretty clear: ensuring a smile on Jake English’s face provides instant gratification for all. Kind of fucked, i’m aware, but it’s not as dirty as it sounds.

(well, not always. It’s not exactly by mere chance that being decked in blue during festivities is seen as an invitation for good fortune. Cerulian-bloods, as life would have it, are very very lucky.)

There is just something about the man’s presence that makes the world feel crispy at the edges. The bright flame all moths are drawn to, and you just happen to be one. The effects of having your party crashed (or graced,) by his presence are often reported to include, but not only limited to: increased self-esteem, overt feeling of happiness, mild hallucinations, laughing fits, lovestruck sickness, euphoria, libido spikes, lucky streaks (good time to make bets.), impulsive highs and the tendency to cry- but out of satisfaction, and maybe epiphanies.

All for the low price of keeping him in properly high spirits, of course. It doesn’t take much. A little wine, a bit of of sparkle-pop and fireworks. Constant attention. Sometimes, he’ll still slip away when his mood takes a dive and he needs some me-time. Which is the perfect moment to strike.

>STEVE: APPROACH IDOL. 

Your IDOL doesn’t seems to be in the mood to be approached at the time. I mean his. Steve’s too friggin small to call enough attention to himself when the big man is radiating ice cold aura on every possible direction.

Really, if he’s not able to tug at his leg for a little bit of interaction in the cramped liminal space of an offshoot staircase, then maybe he’s no good for this quest at all. There’s the right place and the right time.

He finds that he doesn’t mind a little failure, after the fun he’s had tonight. This would be a really compelling character moment if we had been accompanying his personal story for more than 4 odd hours, you may think. But alas, you can imagine it yourself. Pull some personal catharsis into this reading and project it from your memories. There, i'm sure you get it. 

It’s really cozy out there, and if you’re really good at ignoring surround noise, rather peaceful too. There’s even a reclinatory plush rectangle- or as the humans call it, "Sofa"- for all your chilling out needs. He’s even kind of sleepy now, only from imagining how soft it's cushioned embrace certainly is. Eh, maybe if he sits down here to wait for a couple minutes he'll be able to gain enough energy to really hunt down for that autograph. 

>So he climbs. 

>And he leans. 

>Then he dreams. 

Of cheap champagne bubbles and bottled dreams.

Steve is having the best dream he's ever dreamed in his whole dream-filled life. It's all so warm. And so fuzzy.

It feels like being enveloped in fresh cotton candy, or maybe a really good heated blanket. But he doesn't… remember… bringing with him either of those things. 

Unless.

Uh-oh. 

Jake is unmistakable even in the dark of the night. For all things holy, he glows! But thats not quite like the point we're making here.

JAKE: Oh hey little fella! 

JAKE: Im so sorry if i woke you up! You looked so comfy but so icy cold huddled in your corner i didnt think youd mind. 

> SHAKE YOUR HEAD. 

YOU dont MIND. In fact, you can't think of anything that you would mind LESS in your entire blubbing life. The prospect of denying the simple comfort of some headpats sends shivers down your spine.

> PUT HIS HAND BACK WHERE IT BELONGS. DEMAND PHYSICAL AFFECTION. 

JAKE: Uhm. 

JAKE: Guuuuess you dont have a problem then? Neato!! You really are a swell buddy. 

JAKE: Dont talk much do you now? 

You do, actually.

JAKE: Im a bit of a yapping blubbermouth myself. do excuse me if i start to border the nonsensical. 

JAKE: This is one of the last quiet spots i could find in the whole domicile! 

Steve's just feeling particularly sensible at the moment. A little bit awestruck. There's something he should be doing but he can't even remember what it really was when his eyes keep closing with the weight of that hand. It'll probably all be fine in due time, he tells himself. Everything is so peaceful right now, he can't disrupt this honeyglow. The page of hope is truly the kindest, he thinks. 

He thinks?

Wow, this guy. 

Upon second inspection, that assumption doesn't seem entirely right. Jake seems to be barely paying attention to him at all. His eyes are a little bit distant, a little bit glossy, and yet still one hundred percent the most perfectly romantic eyes he's ever seen, even when they're not pointed at him. 

ARE they now?

They can work up to it. They've got a vibe going on right now. 

Jake is smoking something he doesn't recognize, looks like a weird cigarette dipped in toxic frog colors from where he's standing. Maybe it's a ground mushroom thing? Maybe just a fancy brand? Who knows. Doesn't seem to register as any known scent on his nostrils at all. Which speaking as a salamander, should be worrying, but he really can’t find it in his brain to mind.

JAKE: Its a rather pretty night out here is it not… truly a shame everybody else is distracted stuffing themselves in like tunas in a can to even take an honest gander. 

> HUM IN AGREEMENT. 

JAKE: Were you having nice dreams? 

JAKE: I believe you had the right idea in dipping for a nightly siesta. 

> NOD A LITTLE BIT MORE FORCEFULLY. 

This guy really is so warm. No wonder people like him, it's like feeling like a billion boonbucks. Even his weird tattoo looks sort of friendly.

This is incredible.

Looking at the scribbly aberration almost makes something on Steve's mind stir.

> YOUR PEN. GIVE HIM YOUR PEN. 

He's still holding it! Steve waves his permanent marker on what he assumes is Jake's face, but his tiny salamander arms only reach so far as his tits. That'll have to do.

JAKE: Whatsit?? 

JAKE: Wait. You want me to sign something for you as a memento? 

> YES. RECOLLECTION OF YOUR QUEST FLOODS THROUGH YOUR MIND. YOU CAN FEEL THE GOOD FORTUNE TRICKLING DOWN YOUR SPINE. NOW, GIVE HIM THE P 

JAKE: why i didnt expect you to be a fan or somesuch!! Worry not my chum. Ive got just what you need! 

> WHAT. 

JAKE: Hehe there you go!!!!! 

JAKE: Looking devilishly handsome now arent you romeo. 

JAKE: Send me a snap if you get that inked. *wink!*

He chucks the marker over to oblivion, the complete dumbfuck. 

Steve simply cannot believe the _nerve_ of this man.

He's never washing his face EVER again.

> I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS. 

Neither can he. Or i for that matter. But oh well.

> STEVE. AREN'T YOU EVEN A LITTLE BIT UPSET? 

Not even a little bit. Hashtag blessed.

If he strained his little amphibian earholes he could swear to hearing angels sing.

Nope, not angels. That’s a telephone ringtone.

> BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR 

JAKE: One second amigo i have to uhhhn. Respond. To this. 

JAKE: Youve been writing for ten whole suspenseful minutes id assumed the bedsheets had made you prey.  
(...)  
JAKE: Sheesh chap are you awfully suuure this ish a… a uh… whatchamacallit… code crimson?  
(...)  
JAKE: Nononon i can read you well mm.   
JAKE: Ngh.  
(...)  
JAKE: Why yes ive got direct transcription activated its ssSUCH an extra hand on the clogged wheels when ive got myself all tangled up like such.  
(...)  
JAKE: UHHGGHHH.  
JAKE: Nobodies listeninggggggg brooo this is the sort of crap youre always blabbering about for no reason at ALL.  
JAKE: Whyj  
(...)  
JAKE: Didja take something?  
JAKE: D  
(...)   
(...)  
(...)  
JAKE: Will you open your beak if im alone?  
JAKE: gimme an sec or two.

He gives Steve one last glance, and affectionately fails to acknowledge they were having a moment at all. Killing his cigarette and walking back into the dark corridor, Jake disappears. No goodbye, no goodnight. It's hard to register there had been smoke at all. 

> BE JAKE. 

You cannot "be Jake." You are unable to read into Jake's headspace as any form of comprehensible thought. He is currently unreachable, for the lack of a better option.

> SOBER UP, THEN BE JAKE. 

BEEP BOOP. INVALID COMMAND; NO CHARACTER SELECTED. I hope that made it clear. Inebriation is a permanent status affliction until it isn't.

> JAKE: QUIT DOING WHATEVER IT IS THAT YOU'RE DOING TO YOUR BRAIN, THEN BE JAKE. 

Oh, he's tried. 

Addiction is a powerful thing.

> I THOUGHT THE POINT OF THIS SEQUENCE WAS GETTING BACK LOST MEMORIES. A "RECALL". 

It is. The current time is inaccessible because it has been corrupted. It virtually does not exist as an event in his brain. It's called a memory gap, not that difficult to grasp. A hole punched in the blanket of omniscience, if you'd rather have a colorful description. Insisting on a dead end is futile.

> FINE, THEN: WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. 

Now you've got it. It's simple: he blacks out in a few hours, at exactly 03:11:11 am.

> AND THEN? 

That's when it gets really fun.

> SHOW ME. 

Roger that.


	4. VISIT FROM A FAIRY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN AWHILE. This was originally meant to be a 7 part upd8, but the other 3 chapters' assets may take me a bit, so we're diving in RIGHT NOW.
> 
> **IF YOU'RE SOMEONE WHO NEEDS CONTENT WARNINGS, READ: FLASHING LIGHTS** ahead + be aware of the tag list on sensitive content for the next section, overall death thematics. If you need detailed CWS to not be caught by surprise, highlight: [ Drowning, Descriptive injury/Death, Brief suicide mention.]

>??? 

  
  
  


JAKE: *shudders*  
JAKE: Now thats an odd sight.  
JAKE: What in the heavens is...?

  
  
  


JAKE: HMMMMM.

JAKE: Well that sure doesnt look like its any of my business.

  


[JAKESTEP VFX: TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP]

JAKE: Nothin here.

[JAKESTEP VFX: TAPPITY TAP TAPPY TAP TAPPITY TAP TAP]

JAKE: Other side empty too.  
(aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyykkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!)  
JAKE: Huh?

(??!?): JaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyYykkK!!2!!222

ROXY: JAKE!  
ROXY: hihihihi!!!!!!  
ROXY: omg ive been WAITIN for u  
ROXY: thhjs hellhole iss mad boring and thess  
ROXY: there$*  
ROXY: I hate mhself*  
ROXY: THERES NOTBKNG TO DOOOOOOOO LOL  
JAKE: Roxy??  
ROXY: whut  
ROXY: .  
ROXY: oh u mean me  
JAKE: Of course i mean you!

ROXY: Its  
ROXY: mmmmmmmmmmmmmm  
ROXY: ssdat who i am now??  
ROXY?: fucky  
JAKE: Thast… weird...  
JAKE: I mean you sound weird  
JAKE: Are you perchance… errmmm sauced in some capacity  
JAKE: I dont belieb youre supposed to be under the influence!

  


ROXY?: well yeah  
ROXY?: who cars!!!  
ROXY?: cates*  
ROXY(ok now youre pretty sure this IS Roxy.): cares******!!1!  
ROXY: man youre also  
ROXY: smashed  
ROXY: haaaaaammered  
ROXY: plung'd

  


ROXY: coommmpleetly fuckd UP  
ROXY: I relate.  
ROXY: # Me kin id  
ROXY: enjoyin ur life in the glam and bang of da high societys areeeent uuuuuuuu  
ROXY: couldnt even bother keepin ur gotdamn shirt on smh  
ROXY: thts one tricky road to assplant irself on js sayin  
ROXY: u gotto have FINESSE  
JAKE: mmhm!  
ROXY: i really mean it im not fuckin w/ ya this is all 100% true tips pay attention  
ROXY: jaek r u tryna grab my drink  
ROXY: hey das my olive dont eat that 

ROXY: What the hells man whaddyi just say bout ATTENTION  
ROXY: dammit jake focus!  
JAKE: Sorry i am mighty hungry.  
JAKE: And if SOMEBODYS got to be a guppy you better be certain its going to be me chum!!!  
ROXY: haha cute  
ROXY: but lets not do this.  
ROXY: u cabt try to lecture me when ur blackout drunk stupid  
ROXY: watch out for ur own ass  
JAKE: gee what about me screams *unconscious* exactly?????  
JAKE: Im doing perrrrrrfectly fine if you havent noticed.  
JAKE: Really this might be even be classified as one of my MOST present moments in the entire story of  
JAKE: uhm *scratches head in deep pondering*  
JAKE: ...ever?  
JAKE: See i may be sounding a bit higgledy-piggledy for my tashtes but im BANGIN and brand spanking new!  
ROXY: then soooo ammmmmm i!  
ROXY: :))))  
ROXY: see thst was a perfectit  
ROXY: perfectl**  
ROXY: nvm tit* ;)))  
ROXY: perfectitty good and true stafstnent that we could both agree on!  
ROXY: Statement**  
ROXY: isnt that wonderful j  
ROXY: js two frens stumblin round the void enraptured in casual talkins  
JAKE: Erm. I guess?  
JAKE: It still strikes me as a *tad* worrying!  
JAKE: You look... strange. Did you mmmm do somthin different?  
JAKE: Is that perhaps. Makeup?  


ROXY: Ugh so uncouth  
ROXY: Thatta way to talk to a lade??  
ROXY: Lady*???*?  
ROXY: You duneven recognize me do ya… lemme get a good snap of them cheeks  


JAKE: *MMHHHP??*  
ROXY: U look so  
ROXY: DIFFRENT? Fucs up w that shit  
ROXY: did i jus sit out for too long….  
ROXY: Maybe im the one seein weird  
ROXY: but u cant possbly blame poor ol me 4 that one  


ROXY: its the lack o' proper hardware.

JAKE: Your.  
JAKE: *Gulps*  
JAKE: Um. Roxy. I hope its not too rude of me to ask.  
JAKE: Did you do something new to your eyes?  
ROXY: designers choice babes  
ROXY: I am SPOSSED to hav majwstik pink diamonds!!!  
ROXY: MAJESTIC*  
ROXY: gorgest peepers laid in satin eyelashes!  
ROXY: but u hardle ever looked @ my eyes didtvha  
ROXY: didntcha?  
ROXY: figures u wouldnt rmrber.  
ROXY: so now theyr BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK  
ROXY: sure is a wonder u didnt forget my shitty quirk.  
ROXY: bah enough bullshitutng we gottja get to bussnes  
ROXY: u hav noooo idea why youre here do u?  
JAKE: Uhhhhhhhh...  
JAKE: Egad!!  
JAKE: Well first off where exactly is here?  
JAKE: This… recondite and very much spacious black box?  
ROXY: why dontcha  
ROXY: take a wild guess hun  
ROXY: try not 2 sway so much stand still  
JAKE: Are we at the party? Some sort of rox-made voidy little playground? I didnt shpose you were coming in brosephine!  
JAKE: I woulhd have ceeertainly fixed myself up a bit hahah...  
JAKE: Im aware i must be looking like some sort of slopdozzle fuckhead.  
ROXY: dam that rly sux pardner u got em all wrong  
ROXY: see i been dustin the cobwebs left n right round this place but i don feel like its doing much bueno 4 u lol  
ROXY: sighe  
ROXY: SIGHHH*  
ROXY: ur no good in the state ur in jakey  
ROXY: but imma help a brotha out  
ROXY: u need to start rmrenitng some vry important shit for both our sake’s  
ROXY: remrmbring  
ROXY: remembering*  
ROXY: hoenstly it was such a STRUGGLE to even get here  
ROXY: that u better make a fucknvg effort before the whole damn thing goes down th toilet  
ROXY: butt FORST we gonna work on ur reflexkes!  
ROXY: i got just the spell fr that ;)  
ROXY: now keep ur peepers on da majyk wand!!!  


ROXY: bibbity!

ROXY: bobbity!!

ROXY: BOO!!!  
JAKE: YEOWCH!!!

JAKE: OH DAGNABBIT WAS THAT TRULY NECESSARY.  
ROXY: See ur alreddy more alert  
JAKE: ON ACCOUNT OF MY *KNEES* YES?  
ROXY: shhhuhssshhhhh this is hardly the worst u can taek  
JAKE: is that supposed to be a compliment after you attempted to take my kneecaps out??  
ROXY: *zzzzz smokthtly rps herself ignoring jakes lameass*  
ROXY: We aaaaaalso gon need you to sober the fuck up so les get on with it  


ROXY: Ill b real hunny  
ROXY: This is gonna hurt u way wors than its gonna hurt me  
ROXY: but then youll fiiinashly be abel to wake up!!!  
ROXY: and ill b able to get the FUCK out of this crapyard  
ROXY: where hopefully we can avoisd the complete destruction of our coneprt of shelf  
ROXY: concept of self*  
ROXY: minds a liddle foggy rn srrrrrry  
JAKE: Thatd explain why youve been speaking in nothing but noncommittal riddles.  
JAKE: Were you recently hit in the head?  
ROXY: ITS THE BEST I CAN DO OK

ROXY: js please pay attention  
ROXY: we can make this into a movvie ref if thatll oil ur gears  
ROXY: u kno the 1 scene w the ballhead bunbun princess in that star trek movovie  
JAKE: Star wars??  
ROXY: isnt thay the same…… well it goes like tjis  
ROXY: " *swoonin* ohhh obi juan whoever the fuck u are"  
ROXY: "pls help me"  
ROXY: "ur my only ho"  
JAKE: I do believe the quote is "my only hope".  
ROXY: well aint that sweet!!!!!!! you GOT it!!

JAKE: Roxy i really dont believe you should be drinking. I dont even get what youre going on about at all!!  
ROXY: UGH we cant waste time w that  
ROXY: js focus ur lil head on not gettinf lost  
ROXY: and DONT FORGET in no circumstancs  
ROXY: i need you 2 remebr who i am  
ROXY: before i lose mysefl completly  
ROXY: and were in ALL HELLS of sorts of trousble  
JAKE: Thats so terribly obfuscating and concerning in so many levels i dont even know where to begin.  
ROXY: u begin at the fuckin start doofus  
ROXY: then u meet me by the end  
ROXY: READY?

ROXY??: In ooooone…  
JAKE: No seriously youre acting quite. Um.  
ROXY??: ...twaaaaaaaaaaaa…  
JAKE: Strange? Why dont we perhaps go sit this out for a bit??  
ROXY??: ...treeeeeeeeeeeees…!!!!!!!!

ROXY??:

¡DALE

ENGLISH! 

  


==>[Next ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840849/chapters/49995245#workskin)


	5. COTARD’S DELUSION

  


Pain unfurls in your chest. The rancid warm miasma of charred flesh and burnt blood permeates your nostrils with an inescapable, vice-like grip, and you gasp like a slippery little fish fighting against the maw of a much larger crocodile, splashing back and forth against its own blood and foreign spit. Your teeth are coated with the thick aftertaste of iron and smoke — and quite strangely, also sugar. Your heart stutters, ruptured by a bullet shot squarely onto your chest from a gun held in your daughter's baby hands. Your blood will seep into your afternoon tea and drip all over the blue wool that made the skin of Ms. Cobalt, your favoured kettlebuddy and long time confidant. You knew this scene was coming, but you didn't expect it to be so soon after you set up the whimsical stage props. It's funny, considering how much of your life was spent preparing all the possible tombs you could have been buried in with your most valuable historical repossessions — you never bothered to face this moment directly. The bitter realization socks you on the jaw unseen, like a gloved hit from a practiced boxer committing a passion crime: You're dying.

You're dying.

Huh. What a curious observation. Neutral, nearly blank. You register it in the same way one would remark upon a meaningless fact, detached from any sort of relevance. It carries the same cadence as the voice of a tired mother hissing: "Mark, you won't believe how much the dog's barfed all over the kitchen again." Like a complaint for inappropriate behavior.

Like you shouldn't have allowed yourself to die, and that's on you.

You wonder if this would count as murder or an spontaneous form of assisted suicide, and you linger on the second option.

You think about how fish float after dying, lingering on the surface of the water like this unwelcome line of thought. Their bodies will often sink first, dropping to the bottom until the accumulated rot and foam inside drags them up-top. They must see hell as something that exists above existence.

Have you died a whole lot? You're not certain. You have a feeling that maybe you have a penchant for it. A taste, even. You have a feeling that you've collected a list countless deaths, in a myriad of strange and increasingly idiotic ways. You have a feeling that even then, this might be your final round of unlucky foxtrot with the boat rower from Hades. The definitive Perma-Death.

You're feeling a lot at the moment, which perhaps might be accredited by the fact your memories are nothing but silent echoes of emotion. Bursts of bright white light, flashes in different spazzing colors. A disgraceful, discolored technicolor rainbow. All the fuses in your brain are blinking out, one by one, occasionally popping and crashing with a cough like the lights worn around an overcharged Christmas tree.

This story, much like most of the tales revolving around your life, seems to find its beginning with a death. Yours, specifically. You have no more lines. Your score has been calculated. Few are the things you remember and fewer are the ones you can recount.

Voices are the hardest part to make out, followed by faces. It's a blurry, distorted, neglected soup of disconnected impressions. You remember blinding white, and you remember sighing as your body sagged limp. You remember dying with a vindicated chuckle stuck in your throat as if denied the pleasure to respond to the world’s funniest joke.

Then green. Emerald, crystallized, leaf-green. "Green"? No, you silly old oaf. What's gotten into your head?

Have you forgotten your own daughter’s name? What was she called? It can’t be that hard. You were with her mere seconds ago.

The color that coats your mind is bright Jade.

Better luck next life.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO START OVER, RESTORE A PREVIOUS POSITION, GET HINTS OR END THIS SESSION OF THE GAME?  
(Type START, RESTORE, HINTS or QUIT.) >RESTORE.

E̵͕̔r̷̭͌ȑ̶͓o̶̼̕ŕ̵͎:̷̯̔ ̵̔ͅs̴̼͠p̶͕̐ḁ̶̂w̷͍̒n̵̼͘ ̴̩̃E̷̟͘N̸͎̍Ȯ̶̪E̷̢͑N̷̛̬T̵̻̕ ̸̢͗ȁ̷͚t̸̠ ̷̱͊ȇ̶̡r̶̪͠r̴͈̾n̷͇͑o̴̯̎E̶̳͑x̵͉c̴͜͠ê̶̟p̸͍̉ț̶̉i̷̲͗o̴͈̐n̸̞ ̶͖͝(̸͔̈́c̶̞̄h̷̹͆ï̵͙l̷̲̾d̶̡͒_̶̨̒p̴͍͑r̸͍̆o̶̦̐c̷̞̔é̷̘ṣ̸͒s̶͙͝.̶͍̆j̴̬͛s̷̢͒:̷̪̔1̵̱͝0̵͙̓0̶̢͊0̵̧̅:̵̡͝1̸̩͒1̸͕͗)̴̨̆ ̴͚͘á̴̝t̸͇̉ ̴̣͐P̶̩̈́r̶͕͆ǒ̸͓c̴̪͘e̴͇̐s̷̡̕s̵̢̅.̶̟̊C̵̫̍h̸͓͐i̷̮͛l̴̯͋d̴̛̲P̶̮̎r̴̡̾o̶̺̒c̸͈͂ē̸ͅs̵̳͑s̸̞͋.̵̪̏_̷̟̄ḫ̴͊a̵͎̅n̴͈̅d̵̖̑l̵͎̕e̷̘͌.̴̣̔n̸̛̼o̸͓̓ȇ̵̥ẍ̵̮́i̶̺͆t̶͇̃ ̴͉̄(̴̯͠c̷̙͑ḧ̷͇i̵̽͜l̷͇̈́d̶̦̽_̴͎̂p̶̧̓r̶̘̓o̵̱͒c̵̪̈ḙ̴̿ş̵̋s̵͈̋.̵̱̂j̷͕̓s̷̘̃:̵͚̐7̴̹́9̴̗͌1̴̢͆:̴̱̔3̸̼͂4̴̞̕)̸̘͐

.̶̝̕

.̶͚̘̅

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/refreshing.

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C:SKAIANET\system64>  
C:SKAIANET\system64>idrecog  
[SKAIANET SYSTEMS INCORPORATED]  
[USER ID: HALLEY.]  
WELCOME, JAKE HARLEY.  
[Type in keywords to SEARCH, RESTORE, get HINTS or QUIT.]  
>SEARCH  
SPECIFY SEARCH TERM.  
>ROXY LALONDE.  
SEARCH FOR “ROXY LALONDE.” 04211 RESULTS FOUND.  
REPRODUCING. SHUFFLE MODE IS ON.  


==>[ CONTINUE.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840849/chapters/49995335#workskin)


	6. LOG DATE: (WHO THE FUCK KNOWS?) (BEFORE THE END OF AN UNIVERSE.)

==> Go through the archives. 

LALONDE: so ok like being completely honest rn no cheating  
LALONDE: are u nervous??  
LALONDE: i mean perrrrrrshnally im feelin pretty jittery i cant stop thinkng abt it  
LALONDE: kinda feel like im bout to pop the fuck off my bod like [——]   
LALONDE: like i just got hit with an insane abraca-ZOINKS disarming spell  
LALONDE: puft all defenses down js like dat. now what! now wat!!!!!!!  
HARLEY: Can you tell me how many hours till first impact again?  
HARLEY: Got some smog in the noggin [——] and i dont know where in the heavens my planner has scurried off to.  
LALONDE: its uhhh round seventy...sumthin hours…?  
LALONDE: BAH we r goin to know when its closer anyways!!!  
LALONDE: arentcha excite for it  
LALONDE: BABIES harly its our bbsssssss  
HARLEY: I swear if i didnt know you any better id have penned you for a retired cheerleader.[—LAUGHTER]  
HARLEY: Im afraid my levels of enthusiasm have long since wormed into the ground and put themselves to rest. This is hardly my first go at picking up packages by the storks house.  
HARLEY: Im truly content with your excitement really!   


LALONDE: boooooooooring  
LALONDE: i mean duh [——]   
LALONDE: *you* got like  
LALONDE: worlds largest fuckin stadium of children or whatever  
LALONDE: like a wholeass football team PLUS bencharmers incase of tragic unexplained accidents misdseanson  
LALONDE: [——] midseason**  
LALONDE: if you cared bout sports that dont got [——] -ckshit to do with shootin some poor bastards that is   
LALONDE: But this ish like my first baby in the story of uh EVER?  
LALONDE: I cant even b cool n collected an all that jazz im just !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
LALONDE: DORTER  
LALONDE: V V SOON  
LALONDE: IM GONNA HAVE MY OWN LITTLE BABBY BEAN!!!   
LALONDE: *AAAAAAAAAHHHHH*  


HARLEY: [—LAUGHTER]   
HARLEY: Alright i get it i get it! [——]   
HARLEY: Of course...   
HARLEY: No need to set your lounging slippers aflame. It is in fact a new and scary prospect!   
HARLEY: Wholly new venues are about to become a permanent fixture in your life!  
HARLEY: The daunting turmoils of first parenting may be soon weighing on you, but we can worry about all that harsh bang up hooah later.  
HARLEY: I assume youve already taken care of procuring all her needs rambette?  
LALONDE: lol lov how you talk like [——] youve got exprence w/ it  
LALONDE: almost makes me bleeibv in it  
LALONDE: I know how babies WORKKK K  
LALONDE: prolly more than you at this point axctually lmao  
LALONDE: but yea shes got her vvery own little… howdya callit [——] le bebes' fanchy smanchy layeté  
LALONDE: Hehe luv that word s like im a frufru eropeian madame  
LALONDE: je got tha layetté for la bebe ms lalonds????   
LALONDE: WHY SÍ I HAV and its got lil chattés aaaaaall over eeeem [——]  
LALONDE: Shits adorrablé!!!!!   
LALONDE: (((chattés are cat-és if u didnt knew)))  
LALONDE: (((i know that bc i dropped out of french 101)))  
LALONDE: [—ERUPTS IN GUFFAWS]  


HARLEY: By jingo such high caliber wordsmithing!  
HARLEY: For a split second [——] couldve sworn you had embodied the high-spirits of a french personality in the flesh. Are you sure i dont encounter myself bavardaging around with a fluent speaker?  
LALONDE: well well well thatsa a lil seeecret!!  
LALONDE: mebbe its jsut [——]   
LALONDE: Jusss one of my maney talents  
LALONDE: Wonk ;)  


LALONDE: hey harls hav u ever had a propheftic [——]   
LALONDE: prpphofeticccc*… [——] ...prrpshoo [——]   
LALONDE: prh..*  
LALONDE: A   
LALONDE: future dream  
HARLEY: Plenty, if i must admit.   
HARLEY: Time and time again i find myself tightly entangled in the robust embrace of Morpheus.   
HARLEY: Most of it is nonsensical brainbabble with no metaphorical heads or tails to be spoken of!  
HARLEY: But oftentimes i am dazed by the elusive complexion of flashes.  
LALONDE: oh shiz wow busy man huh  
LALONDE: oraclin it the fuck up  
LALONDE: [——] neways i think i mayb had one abt them  
LALONDE: well bout her spegcifically  
LALONDE: yknow whats weird bout it  
HARLEY: I seem to have a hard time finding anything particularly abnormal nowadays, considering the sort of ridiculous situation we encounter ourselves in.  
HARLEY: How much odder can you get with unbirthed infants falling from the sky?   
LALONDE: weeeeeeeell apart from that teeny weeny lil detail  
LALONDE: I mean like  
LALONDE: okok get this  
LALONDE: she was like  
LALONDE: like MY age??? maybe older  
LALONDE: for som reason it was all in black n white but not her nononop herselfh was diffrent.  
LALONDE: she had those big purplble eyes all squintied up like she knows ssomethin u dont  
LALONDE: and this smug self satisjfied smile that was DEFINITELY practiced  
LALONDE: poseing up fancy in a portreit for sumthin special   
LALONDE: and it was like [--]  
LALONDE: i think twas for a book? something important regardless  
LALONDE: her name printed in these little bold black letters underneath  
LALONDE: "Rose Lalonde."  
LALONDE: like it felt so rigth  
LALONDE: that for a wildass second i acthually had to take step back cos i started to think craaaazxy things  
LALONDE: but i RLLLY mean it.  


LALONDE: yknow how soemtimes u arent told but u feel as if u rly know smthn deep within urself in a dream  
LALONDE: i never felt so sure of anything before as i did then  
LALONDE: It felt like she was my mum lmao  
LALONDE: Isnt that insane…  
HARLEY: I  
HARLEY: Erm  
HARLEY: Sure sounds like the type of thing a stressed out coconut would cocktail up after a hearty round of shots!  
HARLEY: [-chuckle]  
LALONDE: Haha yah...  
LALONDE: I reallt js know its bullshitb but  
LALONDE: Ive nevevr felt that  
LALONDE: that warmth before  
LALONDE: being so sure and comforted by the idea sobebody is outt there fkr me  
LALONDE: It was really   
LALONDE: [——] nice?  
LALONDE: Snogmt like you  
LALONDE: [——]  
LALONDE: [-CRASH AND THUMP]   
LALONDE: [-EEERREEEECCKKCCC]  


OUCH that didnt sound nice at all...

Oh!

I can talk???? 

HARLEY: Lalonde??  
LALONDE: godfUck [--] UGH  
LALONDE: [-SKKKKKKKKTCH] shit  
LALONDE: shit shit shitshi [--]  
LALONDE: [--]  
HARLEY: What in gods name.  
HARLEY: Roxy???  
HARLEY: Please respond immediately youre worrying me!  
LALONDE: GLASS [——]   
LALONDE: EVERGRWHERE!  
HARLEY: Oh.  
HARLEY: Are you hurt???  
LALONDE: [———]   
LALONDE: [-cursing]  
HARLEY: I really am not surprised at this point.   
HARLEY: Youve been drowning in rum like a bumfaced sailor lately and its affecting your motors like spreading rust.  
LALONDE: [--] -now[--]   
HARLEY: You need to be more cautious before you end up slicing you pinky off or worse careless stupid horseshit.  
HARLEY: Especially during work!  
LALONDE: [--] SAID [--] -KNOW.  
LALONDE: [-static]   
LALONDE: i fucking know already  
LALONDE: quit PATRONIZING me like im a f[——]fiveyer old infant  
LALONDE: [- shkrrrrrsh]  
LALONDE: I never gotten myzelf fucked over by any crap  
LALONDE: stop exagerrating [——] to make me feel bad  
HARLEY: I believe ive been quiet and humorous with you about it for long enough. I've grown tired of the ridiculousness of this precarious situation.  
HARLEY: Even more so when youre about to be trusted with a child whose life puts our collective existence dangling on the balance.  
LALONDE: What the fuck  
LALONDE: What do you jfuxking [——]  
LALONDE: FUCKING  
LALONDE: KNOW  
LALONDE: ABOUT CHXILDREN???  
HARLEY: Fairly enough for a man of my age.   
LALONDE: HAHAHA [--]   
LALONDE: [-strained wheeze]   
LALONDE: HAH[--]AAHAHAH  
LALONDE: [-THUMP]   
LALONDE: YOU DO?   
LALONDE: DO YOU REALLY JAKE?  
LALONDE: THIS IS THE FUNNIETS JUNK YOUVE TOLDN [--] ME  
LALONDE: IN  
LALONDE: WEEKS!!!!!!  
LALONDE: hahaaha ohhh boy youre so  
LALONDE: so!!!!!  
LALONDE: FUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNYYYYYYYYYYY  
HARLEY: I really dont appreciate being made fun of when we are dealing with such crucial matters.  
LALONDE: Ohh it aint a joke? Rly?   
LALONDE: you know what the TRUTH looks like harley???   
LALONDE: i can do your fucking job better than you while im DRUNK   
LALONDE: but you coulndt even begin to do mine.   
LALONDE: hey 5000 boobuck quesgion btw can u tell me what ur kidz are called  
HARLEY: This is ridiculous.   
LALONDE: No cheatign!! just go at it ol man im waitning on that lisg  
HARLEY: Youre on a nasty little mood and im having no part of it.  
HARLEY: Im going to contact you at a later time when youre not awash in cheap vodka and ill as a fucking hornet.   
LALONDE: awww dont go yet!!!! comeon  
HARLEY: Heres to hoping you wont be in a mawkish plight later or scandalously crashed off your atomized pony.   
LALONDE: was the question too hard?  
HARLEY: [--]   
LALONDE: well ure still here 'rent cha  
LALONDE: put the line down if ur gonn go asshole  
HARLEY: [-sigh]   
HARLEY: I worry about you.  
HARLEY: It would wound me if anything happened at all [--]  


LALONDE: yknow  
LALONDE: i think you lost the right to tell me what the fuck im supposed or not to do a looooooong time ago  
LALONDE: round the time when ya stopped givin a shit bout seeing me firstplace  
LALONDE: who r u? my dad? lmao  
LALONDE: you only rmbr im a human being wit needs and feeligns when im useful 2 you  
LALONDE: never ever when its abt me  
LALONDE: becaus  
LALONDE: you dont rly give a shit  
LALONDE: u never gave a fuckin DAMN  
LALONDE: Speakijnh HONESTLY anf from EXPERIENCE  
LALONDE: i find it hard to believe you ever gave a shit abt anybody rver in ur sorry ass life  
LALONDE: so why would you start with ME  
LALONDE: You keep actin like youre my dad ykno EXCEPT you never really demonstrate a single fatherly quality other than like  
LALONDE: buyin me shit  
LALONDE: sendgn a fuckjng birthday card 2 weeks after ive reminded you u missed my stupid fuckng brthday again  
LALONDE: its so  
LALONDE: sometimes i wonder if you rly care about any of this horseshit were doing for whatvrs reason  
LALONDE: if it means ANYTHING at all  
LALONDE: do you  
HARLEY: Of course i do Roxy.  
HARLEY: Everything were doing is a crucial part to the upkeep of this session.   
LALONDE: hm  
LALONDE: i find it hard to believe thas the answer  
LALONDE: just looks like as always [--]   
LALONDE: Its always been about you.  
[-CALLER DISCONNECTED]

STRIDER: So... that.   
STRIDER: Was the most goddawful intervention I've ever had the displeasure of witnessing in my life.  
STRIDER: Shooting elephants doesn't lend itself well to having a light touch with the ladies, does it.  
STRIDER: Or complex subjects in general.  
HARLEY: *Please* just clam up for a single blessed second.  
HARLEY: Believe it or not but ive already gotten an earful.  


Oh no no no not Dirk too!  
  
(What in the gloomy heavens is going on.)  


STRIDER: Consider myself zipped and thoroughly stitched up, gums to soles.  
HARLEY: How much did you hear?  
STRIDER: (Unzipping.)  
STRIDER: (Hold still.)   
STRIDER: (This might take a while.)  
STRIDER: (Think i got caught in a knot.)  
HARLEY: Really now?  
STRIDER: You asked.   
STRIDER: Let's say about "enough of it."  
STRIDER: She's not gonna want to see you for a long while, man.  
HARLEY: I know.  
HARLEY: *sigh*  
STRIDER: Do you want me to check on her?   
HARLEY: I cant find the right words everytime i try. Believe me when i say i would do it myself!  
STRIDER: She'd probably try to shoot you on a bad day.   
HARLEY: And she wouldnt miss.   
STRIDER: Yup.   
STRIDER: So yes or no? Quick answer.  
HARLEY: Youre still gonna do it regardless of any crap i say.  
STRIDER: Pretty much. But i'd like to bask in the sweet acknowledgement of you getting owned.  
HARLEY: Well then.  
HARLEY: I would be grateful if you did, Dirk.  
STRIDER: Roger that.  
[TRANSMISSION END.]  


Is Jane here???? everybodys got to be i guess... Where is here even. Can anybody hear me? HELLO? 

Ah fuck it. 

==>[Just give me the next fucking thing.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840849/chapters/49995428#workskin)


	7. GOD YOU REALLY SUCK AT THIS. (CONTD)

JAKE: *Whispering* (Hoooold.)  
JAKE: *Whispering* (Steady now. And remember the hasty bitch brings forth blind whelps.)  
ROXY: (pfff)  
ROXY: (im not even going to ask whats that supposed to be)  


JAKE: (Its turning.)  
JAKE: (Fire whenever.)  


>BANG

  


JAKE: YES!!  
ROXY: did i gettit????  
JAKE: Oh boy DID you get it! Square on bullseye and not an inch off!   
JAKE: Look at it... darn thing tumbled down without hesitation or even yelling timber.   
ROXY: AW  
ROXY: YEA  
ROXY: XD !!!!  
ROXY: so what r we gonna do wit it now??   
JAKE: Well from here now its easy. We just tie it up nicely and carry the big boy over to the car and maybe ill gut it.   
ROXY: Ewwwwwwwww  
JAKE: I thought you wanted to see how that was done?  
ROXY: in theory mayb  
ROXY: idk its cooler when its vague wizardy stuff about bones and ingredients for potions i think  
ROXY: i dont wanna c where they come from!!!!  
ROXY: bleeeeehggg  
JAKE: Ah thats unfortunate but understandable i guess. I can do the rest on my own.   
JAKE: But really what sort of mage wouldnt be all about organically acquired ingredients? Not one worth your time.   
ROXY: r u gonna use it for like taxidermy stuff  
JAKE: Ive been plagued by the desire of owning a new wall mount, so yes.   
JAKE: But only shoulders up. Things have been shaping up to be dangerously cramped nowadays.  
ROXY: ohhhh la la were managing space now stop the presses!  
ROXY: can u give it like a beard in my honor just stitch it in  
ROXY: or a cool hat…   
ROXY: hehe a cute lil wizdeer  
JAKE: That could be plenty fun!   
ROXY: YIS!!  


ROXY: did u do this stuff for ur dog dad?  
ROXY: hunting and cookin wild shit?   
JAKE: Oh no no no no old Harley was raised in chow and love showers. He wasnt no feral pup.   
JAKE: Although he had one mean bite on him.

INDIANA JONES AND THE LAST CRUSADE( 1989)   
FINAL SCRIPT   
[INDY]   
What did you find, Dad?   
[HENRY]   
Me?... Illumination.   
[HENRY]   
What did you find, Junior?   
[INDY]   
Junior?! Dad…   
[SALLAH]   
Please... What does it always mean, this... this "Junior?"   
[HENRY]   
That's his name. Henry Jones, Junior.   
[INDY]   
I like Indiana.   
[HENRY]   
We named the dog Indiana.   


  


ROXY: yanno ur the only guy i know whod take his dogs name as official family bis  
ROXY: its p/ funky  
JAKE: It wasnt just ANY dog! He was brilliant i tell you, never seen anything like it.  
JAKE: He was an special dog.  
ROXY: pffffbt i know  
ROXY: i been thinking though maybe i should get myself a surname  
ROXY: on the vein of special things  
ROXY: like…  
JAKE: Like a stagename?   


  


ROXY: ah  
ROXY: yea sorta i guess  
ROXY: or maybe something more personal prolly  
ROXY: thatd mean a bunch to me  
ROXY: and who i am  
ROXY: im still looking tho! Could be anything...  
ROXY: … anything i have a connection with  
JAKE: You know i wish you all the best on your search always.   
JAKE: I have some really exquisite telephone lists i gathered while travelling around the grand Europe which could help a great deal! You cant imagine the sort of catchy hijinks their boutiques and superettes get up to.   


  


SCENE CONTD.  
[BRODY]   
May we go home now, please?   
[SALLAH]   
[to Indy] The dog!?   
[laughs] You are named after THE DOG…   
[INDY]   
[embarrassed] I've got a lot of fond memories of that dog.  


ROXY: uh  
ROXY: thanks.  
ROXY: that sounds super great rly!  
ROXY: Ill just look harder i guess  


.

.

.

Pause.  
You knew she was going to ask you for the family name, but you never offered. Why is that?  
I dont know really. How should i?  
Thats not... me. Or at least i think it isnt. I didnt do any of this.  
It nearly makes you feel ill now, watching everything five steps removed. This little girl you took under your wing and raised as your own, but never bothered to claim. You knew it with the utmost certainty: Roxy had always wanted a family. She felt like she could be a part of yours and you jazzed to the music, willingly. You treated her with more care than you did to your own flesh and blood. You taught her to shoot, you taught her about the game, you let her run around the lab and become acquainted with the crucial matters of ectobiology. You nudged her into being a part of your family, ever so slightly. It wasn't just because of her connection to stable time loops. Why was it?  
I wanted her to be happy.  
So you let her play around with your children and meet your wife just to dangle the fishbait above her face, moments before pulling the line?  
I- it very much wasnt like that!! I did what ive done in earnest. Cross my heart! It is rather disingenuous of you to assume i did not care for her just because i never signed my wretched name on her papers.  
You can show fellows that you harbor a colossal amount of tight care and appreciation for them in ways which arent quite tangible. Im just like a raggedy old rotten record at words!   
But is that all?  
You've never really wanted kids to begin with. That version of you, at least. You got attached to them like pets, rather sporadically. You had your good moments and then you throttled off into the great wild, not even bothering to check on them again.  
Oh sheesh this text is so awfully intrusive.  
They're your thoughts, bucko.  
That doesnt sound like the kind of person id like to be at all.  
And yet, it's still the person you are.   
Does it make it easier to let go, when you assume you've given them everything they want and the quota is paid? Pretending everyone works under a nonverbal stipulated contract and your side is covered, and theirs are due?  
Does it make it easier to run away if you imagine the whole thing as a transacional misfortune? That you're sparing them of the displeasure of dealing with you?  
Who are you most afraid of? Is it them or is it you?  
Im.   
Im not ready to talk about that.  


==>I dont want to be on this memory anymore.


End file.
